


We Stumbled Across Destiny...

by PeacefulDiscord



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacefulDiscord/pseuds/PeacefulDiscord
Summary: ...on blinded feet, and fell in surprise, when we couldn’t escape it’s reach.Honestly, just a bunch of lil ficlets I’m writing as thanks to some people. Mostly HashiMada as that’s the ship they’ve set sailingChapter Four:Hashirama wailed as he shut the panels. “When we came home, Cara was so excited to play and the weather was so nice--”Kawarama swung an arm out, gesturing wildly at the room. “It’s below freezing! And snowing. You literally have melted snow all over your floor! How is that nice weather?”Or the one where Hashirama excels in thoughtless thoughtfulness(Tags will be updated as fics are added. Note warnings in each chapter)
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama & Uzumaki Mito, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Hikaku
Comments: 28
Kudos: 57





	1. All I Needed Was To Remember (HashiMada)

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Naruto-typical violence
> 
> I’m really hoping this doesn’t seemed rushed. I just had a burst of inspiration and ran with it so 🤞🤞
> 
> For KingSunWukong for the amazing OC art he did for me, posted in To Be a Brother

Hashirama groaned, laying back in the hospital bed with a sigh. His body ached, throbbing pain following the exhaustion that hung off every inch of his body. Still, it was nothing to the weight on his heart.

"Tobirama. Tobirama, please—" he didn't want his brother to be upset with him. Not now, not when he was already hurting.

"What do you want me to say, Anija?"

For the first time since Hashirama had dragged himself into the hospital room, his brother had finally looked at him. Hashirama almost wished he hadn't.

Those red eyes, usually bright with thoughts far away, looked dull, tired. The stern mask the younger man always wore had fallen, leaving nothing but the deep etches of pain and defeat. Hashirama did this to him.

"He tried to kill you, Anija. I know I don't understand, I never had a friend—"

Hashirama flinched, regretting the words that had left his mouth in a fight long ago but never forgotten, too sharp, too cruel and still a bleeding wound.

"—but what will you do if one day he defeats you? What of the Village then, Anija? Will you keep holding back, let these people die in your wake?"

And Hashirama was no fool. He could hear the sorrow on Tobirama's tongue even if the man tried to hide it. Knew his little brother was asking _"what will become of me?"_ because they were little else without each other. Hashirama has his family, even if he and Mito had divorced some time ago, they were very good friends and still close, able to rely on each other even better than when they were married and too busy with politics and appearances to be honest with themselves. At least she was happier with Touka now.

Tobirama, however, had no one. No one but the brother whose enemies were greater than he and all his power. It wasn't fair.

"I won't let him win, Tobirama,"and the words felt like acid in his throat. How could he tak of Madara this way, his friend, his first— no. No, he had to. For Tobirama, Konoha, everyone. "If we fight again, I will kill him."

The white-haired man smiled sadly. “I’m not Madara, Anija, I won’t force your hand. Do what you think is right. Konoha will be fine.”

_I’ll be fine._

Hashirama pulled his brother close, feeling overly fond of the brother he wouldn’t have survived without, resting his forehead against the other’s and feeling grateful that damned happuri was not glued to Tobirama’s head still, the way it was whenever he felt a threat.

“Go rest, hm? I will see you in the office—“

“Next week,” Tobirama interrupted.

Hashirama blinked owlishly. “Next week?”

“Don’t step a single foot in the office until next week, Anija. I’ll seal you out,” the man huffed.

“But Tobi—!” There were a million reasons why Hashirama needed to be in the office. The most important being so that Tobirama didn’t drown under all the work that was sure to be waiting, especially given the damage done with Hashirama and Madara’s just finished battle.

“Don’t be an idiot. You need your rest!”

“Tobi—!”

“I’ll set Tsunade on you.”

The threat made Hashirama balk, whining. “That’s not fair, otouto.”

His granddaughter has easily usurped his children’s places as most spoiled in his life and he just couldn’t look into those green and not do as requested. Not with that cute smile and that mischievous laugh and, oh, he really did miss his granddaughter. But he didn’t want her to see him like this. Hashirama knew the pedestal Tsunade put her grandparents on, he couldn’t have her thinking he’d fallen.

And Tobirama knew that too. Hashirama pouted.

Those red eyes started sparkling again and Tobirama smiled, the edges tilted up with that hint of mischief even war couldn’t tear away from him. “It is. Now rest, idiot. I’ve work to attend to.”

Hashirama sighed dramatically, nodding and snuggling more into the blankets. His mind was running amok, too many questions and scenarios, but his body was too tired to pay them much mind.

He strangled the part that longed for Madara into silence and closed his eyes.

He had his family, everything will work out fine.

———————————————————

There was someone outside the window. Hashirama’s eyes shot open, though he kept very, very still. Night had long fallen, the chill of darkness long having crept through. Was it a guard? His brother, a friend? No, no they would’ve been in the room, not hovering outside. And the guards, Hashirama reached with his senses, cursing his luck that he was not nearly as adept at sensing as Tobirama or even Madara, stretching and freezing.

There was only one chakra signature and that was the one by the window. The guards were gone.

Suddenly something shot through the window and Hashirama fling himself off the bed. Across the mattress, a dozen senbon lined down when the length of his body had been, sunken so deep he knew they would’ve hit his bones. Poisoned?

He had no time to think, a figure easily leaping into the room, diving towards Hashirama with a speed that could almost rival Madara. Large waves of rough water filled the room, swirling and cascading around him, cresting over to a fall over his head from both sides even as a blade, the deadly edge glinting in the moonlight, swung right for his head.

Snarling, Hashirama ran through his hand signs, a large wood sphere sprouting around him. The blade caught against the wood, all for a second, and then a fist pummeled through, shattering through like brittle bark. Again and again, that blade swung. Again and again, Hashirama ducked and avoided by a hair, still tired and weaker from his fight with Madara.

Where was everybody? Where was Tobirama? Surely the younger man would’ve felt the chakra spiking through.

Unless, unless he wasn’t sensing at the moment. Which he wouldn’t do, not when Hashirama was injured. Tobirama was too paranoid, too broken after the lost of Kawa and Itama to just leave Hashirama to his own devices, especially after the a battle. So that must mean, and Hashirama swallowed nervously, Tobirama was locked in his own battle or already injured.

Hashirama swore, foregoing ninjutsu for taijutsu, his levels just a little too low for anything else. He had to end this quickly, he had to make sure Tobirama was okay.

“The White Demon is being taken care of, if that’s what you’re wondering,” the voice in front of him sneered. “Kinkaku should be keeping him busy enough.”

Kinkaku? Hashirama knew that name but from where? Kinkak—

The man that survived the kyuubi. The one with chakra levels that could rival the kyuubi.

Kinkaku who was never without his brother, another who shared his formidable strength.

Which meant—

An explosion sounded from outside the window, the roar of water shaking the ground, followed by blasts of lightning and fire so bright that they lit the sky.

Tobirama was fighting for his life.

Anger, pain, everything felt too much. He felt it, the chakra from Sage mode surging through his body. He’d lost enough. He wasn’t going to— not his brother.

Wood tore from the walls, slicing through the hospital floors, hurtling towards the cloaked man. Again and again, and now he was the one barely dodging, crying out as the tendrils cut his skin, piercing deep into his flesh to shatter bone.

The man kept stumbling back, leaping onto the window sill.

“He’s not alone! Him and his men— You can focus on me but your brother will die!” He screamed as he shot to the roofs, Hashirama right behind him. “You’ll be lucky to have a body to bury!”

The water had disappeared, the earth no longer shaking and Hashirama, Hashirama froze. Was Tobi already—?

No. No, he couldn’t. With another litany of swear words leaving his lips, Hashirama let the man flicker out of his sight, and, instead, raced for where he saw the most damage.

Trees and houses were demolished, snapped in tiny pieces, the ground torn and scorched. The smell of blood cut through the air, dull beneath the ozone but nauseating. Bodies littered around him, marred and mauled and ruined in the wake of battle.

Suddenly someone appeared beside him.

Hashirama swung out, stilling his kunai just as it was about to tear through the figure’s throat, a familiar voice snapping at him.

“Anija! Are you alright? I felt the disturbance at the hospital—“

With a gasp, Hashirama dropped his kunai. “Tobirama!”

He clutched the younger man close, breaths coming a little too quick and heavy and he just needed to calm down.

“You’re okay,” he choked out. “The brothers, they—“

“They came with eighteen other ninja,” Tobirama growled, and Hashirama paused. The younger man sounded almost....petulant.

“I would say a thanks is in order, Senju, but—“

Hashirama’s head snapped to the side. Leaning against his gunbai, eyes almost warm, was Madara. Unruffled, if for the marks left from the fight with Hashirama. Even as he spoke to Tobirama, his eyes stayed fixed on Hashirama.

“— if I didn’t owe you one myself,” he finished softly.

“If you’ll excuse me—“ Tobirama pulled from Hashirama’s grip. “I’ll handle the work with the infiltration and see that these shinobi are examined. You two can take this elsewhere.”

Without another word, the younger man took off, flickering away.

“Madara—“ his throat felt tight, heart pounding. Tobirama didn’t trust Madara but it was clear to any they’d fought beside each other. They’d worked to keep each other safe, despite—

Madara sighed, stepping closer. “Your brother followed me...waited until I was too tired from fighting you, like the bastard he is, to lock my chakra and run his experiments because, according to him, it had been tainted. I don’t know what he did but Hashirama, I— I’m....sorry. I never, our dream. Could you, could you forgive me?”

Shame, guilt, remorse— emotions that Hashirama thought his friend incapable of since their first battle as newfound enemies— washed across Madara’s face.

Dark eyes glistened beneath the moon, tear-filled and hard with self-hate.

“I’ve become something I hate, Hashirama. Something Izuna would hate, something you—“

Hashirama lunged forwards, grabbing onto Madara’s hair. Without another word, he pressed their lips together, messy as the tears slipped past both their eyes.

“I could never hate you,” he breathed, the moment they pulled away.

“Never, never, never.”He punctuated each word with a kiss. 

“I’ve missed you so much, dear friend.”

“Idiot,” Madara snapped. “You don’t kiss your friends! Not, not like this.”

Meeting each other’s eyes, they could read the same thoughts passing through their minds. You don’t miss your friends, don’t hope and pray, and long for them the way they always had for each other.

Still, Hashirama, feeling giddy and relieved and overly thankful to gods for his brother or his luck, made to protest. “But friends—“

“Don’t love like this!”

And Madara kept Hashirama close and quiet, tired of arguing and of being so far apart, holding onto him until they both needed air, both of them whispering apologies and assurances until Tobirama came back to drag them to the hospital as the sun was rising.

It really was a brighter day.


	2. Before You Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songfic based on Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi
> 
> Does it actually follow the song properly? Eh, I tried. Then I did my own thing
> 
> Thanks to @ASchwartz33 for helping me be confident enough to post this
> 
> Warnings for Naruto typical violence

Things had been going well. Konoha was blossoming like fruit in trees, rich and lively and swelling in its prosperity.

Slow walks in the morning in early morning dew, quiet laughs the kind they never knew slipping into their conversations throughout the day, and welcomed warmth of home and belonging, easing to the coziness of night. Spars that led to kisses, arguments that fell to jokes and hugs-- little dreams, sweet moments of life. 

But while the fruit looked ripe, it perhaps stayed on the tree for too long.

Because reaching to pick it and peeling back its skin only exposed the rot growing on the inside, the small nibbles of still fresh fruit cloyed on the tongue, overly sweet and deceptive.

A lull, a draw, that only led to disappointment.

Like someone had opened his hand and made him let go.

**_I fell by the wayside like everyone else._ **

Madara was changing.

Hashirama wasn't sure what it was. He was sure the other man was...healing somewhat over the loss of Izuna, but now? Now every interaction was like facing Madara on the battlefield right after Izuna's death. Too much anger and pain and helplessness. Too much bitter resolve that was more a damning than anything. Every interaction felt like a good-bye, like Madara was leaving.

Hashirama couldn’t lose him again. 

"Maybe you should apologize, Tobirama," Hashirama suggested one day. Izuna was something like a haunting— never too far even when there should be no place further.

_ ("I see him, Hashirama. I hear his voice. All of this, this peace, it's a lie," Madara's voice trembled with unfamiliar weakness, broken as the dishes he held in his hand. "He hates me.") _

Hashirama saw the ghost of Izuna linger around in the shadows of Madara's eyes, the loss in his weight but the ever-heavier steps.....the glare when he looked at Tobirama.

"Izuna meant a lot to him and he feels this village is a mockery to his memory. Maybe if you—"

Tobirama paused, stilling for a barest of moments before turning back to his work. 

“I have nothing to apologize for.”

Hashirama knew that, said so, but “-Izuna was his brother.”

“His brother that would have killed me in an instant if he could? We were at war! ”

“That doesn’t make it easi-”

"Apologize for the war then? Is that what you want, Anija?" Tobirama looked up, finally facing Hashirama, but it was all wrong. Instead of understanding, the younger man’s face was cold and devoid of emotions, as still as his voice when he spoke. "Apologize like I had done something wrong?"

Anger flushed through Hashirama and he rose with his rage. "He's hurting, Tobirama! Stop being so stubborn!"

"All of us had lost to the war! Should we make everyone apologize for fighting, Anija?" And now Tobirama was lashing out, snarl marring his face and chakra storming around him.

"You don't understand!" Hashirama wrenched a hand through his hair, looking away from his brother. Heartless and cruel, just as father had made him. Something bitter crept up his throat and he spat, "You've never had a friend, you don't know what it's like to see them in pain and not be able to do anything! You  _ never  _ know what to do when anyone is in pain!"

The accusation hung heavy between them, the weight of two lost brothers and countless clansmen, and Tobirama’s chakra faltered, receded. He rose from his chair stiffly, packing his things almost mechanically. Hashirama reached for him, he hadn’t meant that, he wouldn’t, it wasn’t true--

But Tobirama was just out of reach. 

“Perhaps you’re the one with something to apologize for, Anija,” he spoke evenly-- that same damn stoic tone he used to use whenever he didn’t like what someone had to say-- red eyes boring into Hashirama’s. “That it was your brother who survived and not Madara’s.”

When Tobirama flickered away, Hashirama wasn’t sure who had gone further away from him-- Madara or his brother. Didn't know who was saying good-bye. 

All he knew was that he was the one being left behind. 

**_All I hear are the words that I needed to say_ **

**\---------------------------------**

**_Our every moment, I start to replace_ **

Marrying Mito was something of a beautiful mistake-- an action born out of need to the village, a necessary reinforcement as Madara slowly spiralled further into madness. 

It was a bitter affair-- too many fake smiles and fake laughs and eyes looking everywhere else but at the person they were marrying.

_ (“I must congratulate you,” Madara drawled. “You live a life of all your dreams.” _

_ It wasn’t true, Hashirama wanted to say. In a dream, he and Madara would have picnics on the mountain, they’d walk through the flowers and stress over the village business together. In a dream, Tobirama would smile and bite back all his bitter words.  _

_ “This is your dream--” Hashirama could hear the plea on his tongue, swallowing it when Madara scoffed.  _

_ “One only dreams if and when they sleep, Hashirama. My rest, my dreams, they died with my brother. But I am happy for you and your perfect wife.”) _

And perhaps she was perfect. But she wasn’t for him. Just as he wasn’t for her.

Hashirama didn’t love her, not the way he loved Madara, but he loved her nonetheless. Loved her like a friend, though he wished to love her differently, wished to love her with the passion he felt for wild hair and an even wilder laugh. The way she loved him but didn’t all the same (she whispered about a Temuri who didn’t care for women the way Mito cared for her, spoke of rejection and embarrassment and need for redemption through honor). 

It didn’t matter though, not really. Theirs was not a time for love and that helpless kind of happiness. Rather, it was a time for duty and pride, servitude to ideals and expectations. So that’s all they were-- honor-bound spouses who only had the shards of their broken hearts to give each other. 

They lay beside each other wishing for someone else. Laid beside each other and whispered apologies and confessions even though they knew those words were meant for different ears. 

The tears on their pillows vanished by morning just like all their dreams.

**_Time would heal but this won’t_ **

**_\-------------------------------------------_ **

**_Was there something I could’ve said to make your heart beat better?_ **

His conflict with Tobirama had not settled, let alone been resolved, when Madara approached him as a friend for the last time. Watching him then, standing in the shadows and lost in his delusions, unhearing, like Izuna’s fresh death had stewed too long in his hands, long gone infested. Hashirama could only hold his breath as the walls were built between them, desperate for the air that had left him. 

Danger, Madara said. Tobirama would be the downfall of the Uchiha. 

But that couldn’t be true. Hashirama knew Tobirama was hesitant to the Uchiha, still distrustful despite the peace terms between them (and who wouldn’t be after having spent a lifetime at war with them?), but would he really be a danger to the Uchiha? Hashirama didn’t want to think so-- Madara was  _ so sure _ though, positive that the Uchiha had no place in the village they had built together. A voice whispered that it wasn’t as though Tobirama hid his dislike, that he never once let Madara feel welcome and many followed in his path, quick to be scared and quicker to stay away. 

The whole village, even the other Uchiha had turned their backs on their leader. Hashirama had tried, had pleaded with them to see that the other man was his equal, had shared and still shares the same dreams of peace as he does but they would not listen. Instead they continued to flock to Hashirama and the work that began to flood his every waking moment was nothing if not a sign of trust that had to the Senju that they did not have towards the Uchiha.

Madara had been right. He really had no one. 

Not even Hashirama, with his too-bright smiles and over-bubbly personality, his love greater than all of that combined, had been enough.

_ (“What do you think of this?” Hashirama asked, showing off the little trinket in his hand to Madara. _

_ The other man wasn’t looking at him, eyes distant as he stared off towards the children playing tag not too far from them. One little boy with longer hair kept squealing, hanging onto an older boy’s arm, his laughing shrieks of “Nii-san” ringing out louder over and over as the older one spun him around.  _

_ Hashirama stepped closer, hand hovering over his friend’s shoulder. “Madara?”  _

_ Suddenly the little boy playing let go of his brother’s arm and tumbled to the ground with a cry. Blood smeared across his palms and he began to sob.  _

_ Madara startled, “Izuna.” _

_ He appeared by the child before the other kids circled around and carefully pulled him to his feet, pulling a napkin from his pocket to pat at the blood just as the boy’s brother seemed to catch himself.  _

_ “Stay away from him, Demon of the Uchiha,” the boy snapped, snatching his little brother away and standing between the child and Madara as if to protect him. “Tetsu, are you okay?” _

_ The little boy clutched his brother’s shirt, nodding. “Yes, Nii-san.” _

_ With one last nod and glare at Madara, the boy hurried to pick his little brother up and walk away.  _

_ As they got further away, Hashirama could hear the little boy’s gushing exuberantly, “Wow Nii-san! You’re so cool! You stood up to him like it was nothing, Nii-san! You’re so brave!” _

_ Like that day at the river when Izuna couldn’t stop his praises of Madara’s own strength and skill, awestruck the way only younger siblings could be.  _

_ And when those kids swarmed Tobirama, just having round the corner and still in his armor from a mission, curling their hands into his kimono and jabbering excitedly, it was like seeing Tobirama’s sword pierce through flesh. Like seeing bloodied skin and lips, and life drain as steadily as the trickles of red that dripped to the floor.  _

_ Like seeing Madara lose Izuna for the second time to the same man.) _

Hashirama found himself in the Uchiha compound, milling around almost lifelessly. He’d forgotten that Madara had gone, too caught up with the need to see his friend  _ (his love)  _ that he’d stepped into that empty home and swung the doors wide, voice faltering in the middle of the Uchiha’s name. There was no one there to answer. Nothing but dust on the floor, like the remnants of all he ever had.

The compound felt dull, muted, as if everyone was feeling his loss except, except for the training grounds. Shrieks rang out in the air, phoenix flames and bursts of water. A child, curly dark hair flopping about his head as he leapt around, ducked almost frantically, his sharingan whirling so quickly it blurred. 

White and blue darted around, kunai in hand, reaching, aiming--

_ Why wasn’t anyone stopping him? _

Hashirama cried out, yelling for Tobirama to stop but the man did not hear. 

Or maybe, maybe he chose not to. 

A wall sprang out of the ground, tearing through the ground between Tobirama and the Uchiha child, moments before Hashirama had landed beside his brother. Fury, sick and roiling, enough to make Hashirama tremble as he struggled to calm down, surged through him, and he slammed Tobirama against the wall. The kunai was embedded into the wood, right beside Tobirama’s head,  _ proof _ . It was proof--

“A child, Tobirama?” He snarled, hands shaking. “Have you really no conscience? No morals?”

Madara had been right. Tobirama would stop at nothing, would cross any and every boundary to get rid of the Uchiha. Madara had been right and Hashirama had been blind. Blind and stupid and--

“Sensei? Is this...is this part of training, Sensei?” the Uchiha boy peeked around the wall nervously. “Hokage-sama?”

The little boy disengaged his sharingan. “Was it because I wasn’t fast enough, Sensei? Were you going to hit me? I didn’t think you were but…”

Hashirama had gone painfully still. “Sensei?” he whispered. 

_ Oh no.  _

Something like betrayal had filled Tobirama’s eyes, making the pyrope pupils glisten, and Hashirama had to look away. 

Distantly and then loudly, like a buzz in his ears, the way memories often returned to you, Hashirama could hear the shrieks of others, the cries of ‘Demon’ that followed Tobirama throughout his childhood and youth, that still followed him in hushed whispers. Suddenly it felt like he was looking at a younger Tobirama-- a good foot or so shorter and staring up at him with shattered eyes, that newly made stern visage already crumpling as he tucked his face against Hashirama’s chest, shaking with silent sobs. 

_ (“Anija, Anija I don’t like blood,” he had whimpered then, pale and trembling and skin rubbed raw where he felt the blood had stained. “I’m not a monster. I don’t, I don’t like it, Anija.") _

His hands were still fisted in Tobirama’s collar, twisted with threat and anger when they once used to hold him close. Gently, the way everyone had treated every other child that wasn’t Tobirama. 

Tobirama laid his hand over Hashirama’s. “I’m not a monster,” he hissed, too soft for his student to hear, too hurt and broken for anyone but Hashirama to know.

As if Hashirama didn’t know.

_ (“Tobi?” Hashirama whispered, guilt-ridden with the cruel words he’d yelled earlier, peeking into what had once been Kawarama and Itama’s room. _

_ Sitting beneath the pale moonlight, arms wrapped around his knees, Tobirama sat up stiffly, clutching tighter to the fur in his hands. A gift that Kawarama and Itama begged Hashirama to use his mission money to get him, knowing how the material brought a gentle comfort for the brother they held so dear. Even in the dim lighting, Hashirama could make out the puffiness of Tobirama’s eyes, the stain of tears on his cheeks. The speckles of blood and bruises along his knuckles and tops of his feet.  _

_ Tobirama stayed silent for a long moment before turning his face away, tucking it more into the fur. “Go away.”  _

_ “Tobi--” Hashirama inched closer. He hadn’t seen his little brother cry in a long time, always too quick to hide and act like he hadn’t any emotion at all.  _

_ “Go away!” Tobirama snarled. “I don’t want you here right now!” _

_ “You have no-- Why are  _ **_you_ ** _ here?” Hashirama yelled, furious. Itama was surrounded and murdered like a wild animal and Tobirama didn’t shed a tear and now he’s upset? Over what? Hashirama disturbing him? _

_ “Go to your Uchiha friend! I don’t want you! I want my brothers! I want Itama and Kawa--” Tobirama choked, starting to sob again. “I--” _

_ Hashirama reeled back, the words striking like stab wounds until he couldn’t breathe without choking on his own pain. “I..I **am** your brother!”  _

_ Tobirama glared, curling up more around the fur collar. “What would you care for a monster?”) _

Hashirama couldn’t bring himself to let go. His hands looked wrong, scarred in places where it had been unblemished just a second ago, scarred and looking just like-- like that blasted Elder's. 

Breathing suddenly felt difficult.

“Tobirama--” his voice felt strangled and he clutched tighter, too horrified to stand on his own. 

The boy gripped his kunai so tight his hand shook with it, looking between the brothers with worry. 

“Sensei?” his voice cracked, fear pitching through like the cracking of glass.

Two other boys flocked beside him, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere, their own weapons drawn as they watched the two adults before them. Two-thirds of Team Tobirama but what-- how did the Uchiha fit in?

“Yes, Anija.  _ Sensei.  _ Meet the newest member of the second division of Team Tobirama, _ ” _ Tobirama glanced at the boy, a small smile crossing his lips--

(Indulgent, adoring, the smile he hadn’t given anyone since Itama passed and--)

“-- we’ll continue this later Kagami, Saru, Homura. Go get lunch, tell Ichiraku that I will pay him.”

The kids cheered, dashing off the training field and just barely out of sight when Tobirama brushed Hashirama’s hands off of him, dismissive as he too began walking away without another word.

“Tobi--”

“You do recall me discussing plans to expand my team, yes?”

And Hashirama did, he just, with everything that Madara had said-- he opened his mouth to explain but Tobirama waved him off, shaking his head. 

“I had forgotten that even you see me as a Demon, Anija. Tell me, would Madara return if I were gone? I suppose that would make you happier.”

_ Yes, _ Hashirama wanted to say. But he knew it wasn’t true. How could it be? Tobirama was his last brother, the one he had always been closest to. No one could replace him--

A wide, crooked smile and lively dark eyes came to his mind and his voice stopped before he could raise a protest. Tobirama had paused, waiting for his brother to refute him, and when none came, just scoffed (and Hashirama wasn’t deaf, not yet, he could hear the strain of held back tears even in that), whisking away before Hashirama could find his voice again.

**_It kills me how_ ** **_I_ ** **_make you feel so worthless_ **

**_\---------------------------------------------_ **

**_Was there something I could have said to make it all stop hurting?_ **

Madara was attacking the village. Madara was killing their people. Why? Why? Why? Hashirama didn’t understand. Was it because of that damned stone? Because the other man resented what Konoha represented-- dead brothers and unfulfilled promises-- or because, because Tobirama was here? Tobirama was here and fighting and Madara-- 

Madara would kill him.

Madara would kill him because Izuna was gone and it was all Tobirama’s fault. If he had just  _ apologized _ \-- 

But it didn’t matter. Not now. Not when Hashirama hadn’t even had a chance to apologize. Tobirama wouldn’t even look at him, stealing away to work before Hashirama woke-- a feat he had never managed before, not with his late nights and Hashirama’s habitual early rising-- and disappearing again before Hashirama even made it into the office, work completed as far away as he could be while still being available to everyone else. 

The smell of ash and dust, blood and torn earth clouded the air. All Hashirama could see was fire. All he could feel was the crackle of electricity in the air. Corpses littered the ground but Hashirama had to ignore it, pushing through to the beacon of burgundy and black, the glint of a kama and gunbai.

Their weapons met and crossed, sparks flying. 

“Madara, please. Stop this madness. We’ve surpassed this, we--” Hashirama cried out, Mokuton erupting from the ground to hold back his once-friend’s attack, rippling vines and wood tearing through the earth to separate the other shinobi from the Uchiha. 

“We have done nothing, Hashirama,” Madara snarled. “All of this is a lie and you are a fool to think otherwise!”

“That’s not true! Please--”

But the words were lost as Madara flicked through jutsus, forcing Hashirama to respond.

\-------------------------------------------

**_When you hurt under the surface_ **

When the dust had settled, chakra exhaustion sapping every last bit of energy from their bodies, and Madara had left with a final promise--

_ (“I will destroy this village, Hashirama. I will end all the shinobi.”) _

\-- Hashirama finally dragged himself back to assess the damage. Too many injured, too many dead and….

Tobirama lay in the hospital, nasty wounds littering across the pale flesh. One too many hits taken for shinobi Madara had accepted then forsaken. Still he sat up when he saw Hashirama, eyes searching, scanning for injury and discomfort. Bruised hands reached for Hashirama’s own, relief in the red of those eyes despite how close to death he had come to. 

It made Hashirama feel sick.

But what could he do? How could he turn his back on Madara, the one man who always understood him, who shared each and every dream of his before he lost his mind trying to explain it? Those months of solace, those true breaths of happiness, that taste of a childhood he could only imagine and, without Madara, it was all gone. 

How could he compare that to his last brother?

When the younger man looked at him, it was as if he knew. Saw something in those brown eyes that gave it all away.

Once again, Hashirama had chosen Madara over him. 

Tobirama turned away.

“I have come to realize that I do owe you an apology, Anija,” he announced, and something about his voice sounded wrong. 

He didn’t want to listen to this. Hashirama was sure he wouldn’t like what he heard but still-- “For what, Tobirama?”

“For not fulfilling my purpose,” Tobirama settled on the bed more comfortably, eyes fixed on the wall.

_ (“You’ve one purpose and one alone. Do you understand, Tobirama?” Elder Setsuna had snarled, pressing the boy against the wall because he’d been disobedient, had refused to follow through with his orders. _

_ “I can tell by their chakra, they weren’t shinobi--” _

_ The resounding hit sent Tobirama crashing to the ground, lip bloodied and face already purpling, the swell of it matching the fingerprints around the soft skin of his throat. _

_ “Weapons do as told,” Setsuna grabbed Tobirama’s hair-- the strands were longer then, easy to wrap about a fist-- and began dragging him away. “..and apparently you still need honing.” _

_ Tobirama reappeared not too long later, three lines cut into his face.  _

_ “I’ll be your weapon, Anija.” _

_ He had Hashirama chop his hair off then, refused to ever let it grow long again.) _

“And being your brother instead.”

Tobirama gestured to the healer, not even looking as they urged Hashirama out.

Looking back as he stepped through the door, Hashirama caught a glimpse of that fur collar before Tobirama curled around it and knew he’d made his brother cry.

**_I hate you, I hate you, I hate you/ But I was just kidding myself_ **

**\------------------------------------------**

**_Was never the right time whenever you called, went little by little, until there was nothing left at all_ **

Hashirama was tired. Tired of the fighting and trying to convince Madara to see sense and return. But he wouldn’t see anything but the darkness clouding his eyes.

For a moment, Hashirama humored the idea of not raising his sword, of letting Madara’s attack pierce through his chest and strike him down.

A moment was all he needed. 

A smaller, blue-armored back suddenly stood before him, bowing around something that glinted against the glare of the sun, and Hashirama watched as red beads dripped off the blade, the metal running through so deeply that the tip nearly reached Hashirama’s chest. Madara’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second-- guilt and triumph warring across his face until he finally settled for dissatisfied and shoved Tobirama back, letting the younger man fall to the ground, breathing raggedly. 

Catching Hashirama’s eyes, Madara sighed, almost nonchalantly. “A brother for a brother, Hashirama. We are equal once more.”

He flickered away, not even waiting for a response.

Tobirama lay, gasping, grief and acceptance playing over bloodied lips. He looked past Hashirama, skyward, smiling wanly. “Perhaps now-- peace.” 

Peace for who? The village? Madara and Hashirama? 

Hashirama swallowed. For Tobirama? Peace in getting away from the brother that didn’t value him as the other two had? 

Pale skin grew paler, paper white, as the blood pooled into the earthen ground, coloring the white of Tobirama’s hair and fur collar.

Was this peace? 

Tears slipped past the edge of Tobirama’s eye, cutting through the dust and flecks of blood on his cheeks. He coughed, wretched and wet, a desperate wheeze passing his lips even as he struggled to speak. “Idiot. Go after him.”

_ (“Training alone again, Anija?” Tobirama asked, the sparkle of hope that once lit his eyes fading as he observed the bounce in Hashirama’s step, the laxness of his stance. “Maybe next time, then.” _

_ He said it like he didn’t believe-- like a next time would never happen and it didn’t. Not after that. Not when Hashirama so adored his new friend, not when Tobirama led their father to the two boys and stole that friend away.  _

_ Spoke the same way even as he held Hashirama’s hands away from his wounds.) _

“Go. I’ll be fine,” he choked out, curling in on himself even as he shook with pain. “He’s still near, two minutes north.”

“And you, Tobirama? How near are you to me?” Hashirama asked, dropping to his knees and letting his hands glow green. “Do you intend to send me away so you can leave?”

“Anija--?” Tobirama’s eyes had widened and he clasped a desperate hand around Hashirama’s wrist. 

_ (“I don’t like the dark,” Tobirama murmured, cuddling close to Hashirama, the twist of his lips set in a mulish pout that could only be described as adorable for a child so young. _

_ “Nothing can hurt you, Tobi, not while I’m here.”) _

Hashirama held his brother closer. “I won’t let anything hurt you, Tobi.”

And like all those years ago, Tobi took a breath and relaxed, tired eyes brightening just so.

Hashirama let himself smile.

**_But all I can think about is seeing that look on your face_ ** _. _

\-------------------------------------

**_Would we be better off by now_ **

Madara had wanted to kill him. Cold and uncaring, tainted by his delusions and hatred and Hashirama had very well let him. Had almost let him just like he let the Uchiha attack the village again and again.

Tobirama had nearly been slain-- that clever mind and overly caring nature permanently locked away in the frozen abyss of death. 

Talking wasn’t saving anyone anymore. 

**_If I had let my walls come down_ **

“I can do it, Anija. Mito-nee and I, you won’t have to,” Tobirama whispered, grasping his brother’s shoulder. They had finally made amends, finally bridged the gap left by a boy with a personality larger than life itself. “He was your friend--”

And that desperation, that plea to be the one to hurt or get hurt, like the laying of planks to make a bridge, assured Hashirama that he was making the right choice. 

“And that’s why it must be me.”

**_Like troubled water running cold_ **

There was blood around him, on him, staining his sword and armor and soul. 

But even as it washed off, even as the body in his hands began to cool--

He knew there would be nothing that could make his heart beat better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross posted on To Be a Brother just because I couldn't decide which was more fitting
> 
> This one honestly took me so, so long and so many parts were rewritten and etc and just the _struggle_. So please do my poor soul a favor and let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Stay safe everyone!


	3. Uchiha Flailures, A Series, Part 1: Engaging With Flailure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any references you recognize: HP, Twitter, canon Naruto, etc-- they do not belong to me.

**9:46 a.m.**

Madara peeked out the window, sighing when he only saw Izuna’s car in the driveway. He pulled out his phone, opening his messages to text his husband.

_M: where tf is he?_

_Tree Stump: if he's late, I blame Hikaku. Tobi's punctual_

_M: yeah? And those research binges_

_TS: ........I still blame Hikaku._

Rolling his eyes, Madara looked up to see how his brother was doing with the decorations and promptly scowled.

"Izuna, the fuck are you doing? That banner is crooked!" Madara glared at his little brother who seemed determined to ruin all of his hard work. The doorbell rang just as the doorknob turned.

"Actually—" Tobirama began, drawling, as he stepped through the front door, pocketing his copy of Madara’s house key. A sheepish Hikaku trailed behind him murmuring half-hearted apologies. Suddenly Madara’s phone went off again, putting a pause to Tobirama’s sentence.

_TS: Want me to call him?_

_M: never mind_

_TS: Tobi’s there? ask whose fault it was_

_M: **no**_

"Don't you dare—" Madara hissed at the younger Senju, hair bristling, even as he reprimanded Hashirama over text. The white haired man seemed to take the reply as permission to continue however, just like the insufferable, contrary bastard he liked to be.

Remembering what Hikaku had called earlier to say, Madara braced himself. His brother-in-law was feeling particularly cruel today, beyond aggravated because Hikaku, Madara's unfortunately idiot cousin and Tobirama's idiot boyfriend, had forgotten to buy the Senju his coffee for two weeks in a row. Then-- as if that wasn't a felony crime by itself-- went on to break their air conditioning so that it was apparently too cold for the Senju to sleep even with being buried beneath all the blankets. Madara couldn't blame the younger man though— with the stress of his research and involvement with helping endangered youth, Tobirama seemed to be running a little thin, all patience he had for Hikaku (or any Uchiha for that matter) sapped to a grand total of zero percent.

Tobirama smirked viciously.

"My OCD is telling me that banner is fine. It's probably your eyes that are crooked. You do have an oddly shaped head."

“That’s it--” Madara waved his phone in Tobirama’s face, quickly typing a message of complaint and sending it. “Let’s see what your brother has to say.”

_M: he's insulting meeeee_

_TS: Hikaku forgot the coffee, didn't he?_

_M: oh, everything's my cousin's fault? Not your asshole brother's?_

_TS: yes_

_M: FCJDGJF_

_TS: sorry. I know the truth hurts, babe_

Tobirama tilted his head slightly to the side, already looking much too smug. “And what did Anija have to say?”

Madara pouted, putting his phone down and stomping to the kitchen. Pouring out a steaming cup of coffee from the pot he set to brew just a few minutes before. Spooning in what felt like an ungodly amount of sugar and cream, he carefully stomped back into the living room. "Take it, asshole. And help yourself to breakfast. You need to take better care of yourself, damn."

Red eyes widened in surprise and Madara watched the frustration slip from Tobirama's face as he sipped at his coffee. They stood awkwardly silent as Tobirama nursed his drink, hummed when he finished it. "Mmm, I'm fine. What did you need us to do? What's the theme?"

Madara carefully took his cup back before glancing at the piles of decorations littered across the living room, "Uh garden. Hawaiian? Floral tea party with alcohol."

The sound of a smack ringing out drew Madara's attention back to the wall. A red handprint was bright against the skin of Izuna's face.

"Which _one_ , Nii-san? And don't even fucking think of saying 'all' because I hit myself a lot harder than I meant to and my face can't take another one yet," Izuna warned, disgruntled and glaring at his hand as if it had acted on its own.

Madara looked at his decorations again, a little nervously. "Alice in Wonderland visiting Hawaii?"

The sound of a smack rang out again, amplified by three.

Wincing, he texted Hashirama to avoid their slightly murderous gazes, stepping around the counter as if the cabinets could stand as a shield.

_M: I think they're annoyed with me_

_H: .........._

_H: *insert cat videos*_

——————————————————-

**12:23 p.m.**

"How are you ensuring Anija doesn't come home while we're setting this disaster— I mean party— up?" Tobirama asked nonchalantly. As if he didn't just destroy Madara's forced calm.

"Disaster? Does it look like a disaster? Oh my god, it's a fucking disaster," Madara grabbed at his hair. "He's gonna hate it and divorce me and I'll be forced to live the life of hermit in a cave with a plant man as my only friend."

"What are you _on?"_ Hikaku sounded like he was about to cry. "Who the fuck let you be an adult?"

"Who the fuck let you...let you exist?" Madara snapped, waving his arms emphatically.

"His parents. You know, our aunt and uncle? No _fetus deletus_ for them," Izuna said. "What is this party for anyways?"

Madara held up a finger-- he needed to share his pain with Hashirama.

_M: we shouldn't have let Izuna watch HP and join the fandom_

_TS: you're right. We should've made him read the books_ 😤

Hikaku frowned, elbowing Madara. “Hurry up.”

_M: ..that's not...I'll tell you later_

He pocketed his phone again, sulking. “It’s for our anniversary.”

" _What_ anniversary?" Tobirama demanded, eyes squinted suspiciously..

"Our wedding anniversary!" Madara shrieked, flapping at his hands to get Izuna to close his mouth-- Madara could see the truth ready to fall off the rat’s tongue and he was not going to let that happen now.

Tobirama scowled, crossing his arms. "We were at your wedding, idiot! You got married in March! It’s _August_."

Madara swore internally. Well, that was a stupid mistake. He glanced down at his phone desperately, hearing the notification ding go off, and tried very hard to not look at Hikaku who paled so dramatically, he almost matched his boyfriend in complexion.

_Hikaku to Madara: I have no excuses. Helpppppp_

Madara shot a dark look to the man discreetly hiding his phone in his jacket sleeves.

_M: Hashi's right. Everything's your fault_

_Hikaku: TF???_

_Hikaku: It doesn’t matter_

_Hikaku: I'm your favorite cousin! Help me!_

“I meant the anniversary of our first date! I misspoke-- it’s uh, my parents’ wedding anniversary but also Hashi’s and my first date anniversary and I thought I’d just celebrate it together!” Madara waved his phone. “I was looking at the reminder and my mouth... just did its own thing.”

Tobirama rubbed his forehead. “You mean instead of the simple and elegant way your parents like to decorate and celebrate things, we’re here setting up this disaster in your backyard for sake of your first date anniversary? Who even cares about--?1”

Hikaku interrupted, slamming his phone onto the table. "Everyone! Everyone cares, you know, first anniversary and everything. Or at least Uchiha do. Yeah. Very important in the family."

The Senju arched a brow. "Oh? And when was our first date, Hikaku?"

"......"

"The month, Hikaku." Tobirama looked exasperated. "Do you remember the month?"

Sweat dripped from Hikaku's forehead and he was now starting to turn as red as Madara's favorite jacket. "Errr September?"

"February, February _19th,_ to be exact. You know. My _birthday_." He deadpanned before turning away with a disappointed sigh. "Anyways. How are you distracting Anija, Madara?"

“Umm one sec--” Madara stuttered, tapping at his phone. “Let me see what he’s up to.”

_Madara to Hikaku: you're an idiot_

_M: like wow, even Hashi isn't that bad_

_M: and he forgot his own birthday_

"Madara?" All four men froze, staring at each other in horror as Hashirama began pushing open the gate leading to the backyard. "Tobi's here? I got the groceries— AH!"

Tobirama slammed the door shut. "Hikaku's naked!"

 _"What?"_ Hashirama shrieked. "Why? In the backyard? Tobi—"

"He’s in the pool house but we need to go buy clothes! Izuna set Hikaku's on fire! Go and start the car," Tobirama blushed fiercely, furtively avoiding his boyfriend's outraged eyes. Raising his voice over Hashirama’s protests, he snapped, “Go!”

“Fineeeee,” Hashirama sniffled loudly, the sound of him dragging his feet on the gravel path as he walked away letting them relax.

Tobirama rolled his eyes. "Idiots. I'll distract him,"

Without another word, Tobirama was through the door, letting it click shut behind him. Madara sent a quick text, still careful of not yet letting Tobirama hear.

_M to Hikaku: .......you just walk around naked? Fucking pervert. You could get arrested in Singapore_

_Hikaku: ..._

_Hikaku: ..._

_Hikaku:_ 🖕

Izuna pouted, looking between the two of them before whining, "Would you two stop texting your Senjus already? What are we doing with this tent?

———————————————————

**1:11 p.m.**

"So. How's this look, Nii-san?" Izuna griped through gritted teeth, finishing the table display for the seventh time. He sounded close to flipping the table at Madara's face.

"Awful. Absolutely terrible. The net with the balloons is hanging too low, the streamers are coming loose, the tables and chairs are too close—" Madara fretted, twisting his hands.

Hikaku looked around, posture easing. "Madara, it's okay—"

Madara started muttering to himself, dragging out the cooler he’d placed beneath the food table. "Hikaku ordered fresh fish in some platters so that should be fine. It should be good—"

He took off the lid and shrieked, slamming the lid back down. "They gave us _live_ fish! Oh my god, I can't cook that! You can’t cook that! Oh my god, it's ruined. Everything's a mess, the fish is so raw it's still alive and— and where the fuck are the real decorations?"

"Real decorations? What do you mean—" Izuna began, looking confused. His face started getting red. "Didn't we _just—_ "

"Extra decorations!” Madara corrected hastily, warily eyeing the sharp objects just a little too close to Izuna’s hands for comfort. “In the box. The one Hikaku brought yesterday. Under the table over there! Look in the box, beneath the leis! What color are those decorations?"

Izuna grumbled, unclenching his fists and crawling under the table. "Uh blue?"

"What _shade_ of blue," Madara huffed, impatiently. The younger Uchiha brother sighed, rolling his eyes, and lifted a decoration from the box.

" _Blue—_ "

"That's the wrong color!" Hikaku snatched the decoration, holding it up to the sun to double-check. With a ragged cry of rage, he shoved the box to the side, blue decorations toppling out. "I said I wanted _cobalt_ blue! That's _Egyptian_ blue."

"The fuck—?" Izuna gaped, shocked. It was a rare sight to see Hikaku’s composure snap.

"It's ruined. This whole ass thing—" Hikaku wrenched a hand through his hair, following behind as Madara started pacing.

"Hashirama's gonna be pissed," the elder Uchiha wailed. "He's gonna hate it. It's ruined. Absolutely ruined. Tobirama's gonna hate it and Hashirama's gonna divorce me. I'm gonna be a _hermit_ —"

"I'm going to have to bury myself," Hikaku whispered, looking at the sky as if it held all the answers. "That's my only option."

"Would you stop that?!" Izuna shrieked, grabbing his brother's hair to force him to stop storming back and forth. "And you too, Hikaku! It's not that bad—"

Suddenly rain started pouring down, a howling wind picking up before Izuna could even finish his sentence. They curled up behind the tables, grabbing at the tablecloths and decorations to keep them from blowing away but they only had so many hands. Streamers and balloons scattered around the yard, tearing and popping as they dragged across the grass. In a few long gusts, the three men watched in horror as the tent was lifted from the ground and sent careening over the top of the house, the foot of the tent nearly colliding into Hikaku's face.

"We've to grab it before it damages something," Madara bellowed over the storm, already up and running to the front yard.

Izuna and Hikaku quickly followed, watching mournfully for just a moment as all the decorations they painstakingly put up blew away with the wind.

The front of the house was worse.

The tent had crumpled into a broken mess, collapsed right on top of Hashirama's garden.

With careful movements, they carefully maneuvered the tent off of the plants, wincing is horror. The plant stalks had bent, nearly clean snapped, and the flowers all fallen off, ruined petals smattering across the wet dirt.

Madara looked about to wail mournfully, holding the petals in his hands guiltily. "We'll have to move the party inside." He sniffled. "We've to hurry before it's all ruined and Hashirama—"

"— will divorce you! Yeah, we know!" Izuna snapped.

"And then I'll—"

"Become a hermit! We get the idea, Madara!" Hikaku looked like he was about to strangle someone. Like Madara. With a squeak, the eldest Uchiha took off, dragging the ruined tent with him.

Quickly, he sent a cry for help.

_M: nothing's workinggggggggggg_

_M: I'm hiding the shovel_

_M: Hikaku wants to hurt me_

_M: and Izuna_

_M: oh my god, AHHHHHH_

_TS: ......................_

_TS: *insert different cat video*_

———————————————————

**4:03 p.m.**

The rain was still pouring outside but finally all the setting up was complete, all of their guests but the person of honor waiting with baited breath to surprise him.

"I'm not ready." Hikaku trembled, pacing back and forth and wiping his palms against his jeans.

"You'll be fine," Madara reassured, handing him the rather decadent cake to hold. “Here, you should hold this.”

Hikaku’s hands shook violently as he accepted the tray. "I'm not. I'm not. Oh no. I can't. Tobirama's gonna—"

The door swung open.

"SURPRISE!"

Madara yelped as Hashirama and Tobirama stepped through the door, everyone's screams startling him so badly that he spazzed, crashing into Hikaku who pitched forward from the sudden weight. The cake flew from his hands.

And hit Hashirama smack in the face.

Everyone fell silent.

It took a long moment before the excess fell from his face, dropping in a large, mushy clump onto the floor. Blue and white frosting smeared from his hair to the front of his clothes.

"Well this was a surprise," Hashirama laughed, scooping some frosting from his cheek to pop it in his mouth. "But I love it."

The tension broke, the sound of camera shutters going off as everyone else started laughing too.

Tobirama inched his way out of the crowd, coming to stand by Hikaku before his eyes caught on something somewhere above the man’s head.

" 'I love you but your brother's a dick?'" Tobirama read aloud, bored. "Really Uchiha? You couldn't come up with something more clever? Like, 'Always knew you liked strays, Anija!' placed right over a picture of you and that cat hair of yours?"

Hikaku spun around, horrified, cutting off Madara’s raging protest. "That's the wrong banner!"

"Oh?" Tobirama raised a brow. He turned back to look at Hashirama as the crowd dispersed to get food and drinks or settle on the couches, and paused, doing a double-take. "Is that a ring on your forehead, Anija?"

"What?" Hashirama swiped at his forehead and only succeeding in rubbing more frosting into his hair. "Where?"

"No wait, here. Would you— idiot, stay still! You're getting cake on me!" Tobirama snapped, reaching with nimble fingers to pluck the frosting covered ring from Hashirama's forehead. He shoved it towards the older man. "Here."

"No!" Hikaku yelled, grabbing Tobirama's hand.

"Hikaku—"

"That's for you! Not him!" The brown-haired man flailed in a jerky movement much too similar to Madara’s signature panic. "I want you to marry me!"

Tobirama froze, staring at Hikaku.

"Please?" Hikaku squeaked. "If you want? I mean, we've been dating for seven years and I can't imagine a moment where I'm not with you. From your rants to your anger to your happiness, I just, I want to be here for every moment. Every high and low. I want to spend as many days with you as I can to at least try to show you how much I love you or I'll be like Madara and become a hermit—"

Quicker than they could see, Tobirama grabbed Hikaku's collar and kissed him, letting the Uchiha put the ring on his finger without detaching their faces.

Slowly the party began, stirring to life around the besotted fiancés.

Madara sighed, relieved his torment was over. Grabbing a wet cloth, he began helping Hashirama clean the cake from his face.

"Thank you for helping me help Hikaku with Tobi's proposal!" Hashirama beamed, kissing Madara before spinning him and hugging him tightly from behind, tucking his head over Madara's shoulder. "I love you so much, even though you made a mess of our house and yard!"

Madara whined, covering his face with his hands. "I'm never planning a party again."

"Not even for my birthday?" Hashirama cuddled closer, pouting. "Alice in Wonderland in Hawaii themed?"

"........no," Madara turned his face, the pinking of his cheeks making Hashirama laugh and kiss Madara again. "Enough, you bag of moss."

"I love you too, Mr. FlailyPants Uchiha."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooooo a dabble in humor. I know, the angst hurts so much better but what do you guys think? 
> 
> That disaster? Everything but the cake flying was legit and lived and yeah, hot mess. Just like the Uchiha lol
> 
> Remember to stay safe everyone <3


	4. A Gift From Me(ow) to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama wailed as he shut the panels. “When we came home, Cara was so excited to play and the weather was so nice--”
> 
> Kawarama swung an arm out, gesturing wildly at the room. “It’s below freezing! And snowing. You literally have melted snow all over your floor! How is that nice weather?”
> 
> Or, the one where thoughtless thoughtfulness is something Hashirama excels at

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @catstrawberrybee and @AwfulLoneliness for beta reading this for me! I also appreciate the title because I’ve no idea what I’d have named it otherwise @AwfulLoneliness
> 
> A gift for Ama and Cara ❤️

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Hashirama sobbed, dragging his younger brother and brother-in-law into the house. “I can’t find Cara anywhere!”

“Why did we have to come through the back door?” Izuna grumbled, dodging to the side and shoving Kawarama into the older man’s arms to avoid being hugged. He snickered at Kawarama’s squawk of protest.

Hashirama tightened his grasp around his brother as he pouted. “Madara and I have a doorbell with a camera. He’d have gotten alert if you’d walked up and then he’d have known something was going on.”

“Let go, Anija.” Kawarama huffed, squirming feebly. “Did you come through here too, then, when you brought her home? We have to find her quickly-- I’m having dinner with Reto’s parents in a bit and they’re real pricks about punctuality.”

Izuna snorted, “Already hating the in-laws, Kawa? It’s only been a few months, hasn’t it?”

“Trust me, they're about as bad as yours, maybe even worse, and I didn’t even think that was possible.” He glanced about the room, surveying, before stiffening suddenly. “Anija, you left the windows open?!”

“What?” Hashirama shrieked, looking between the open windows of the sunroom, eyes wide in panic. He fluttered his hands. “Oh my god, I forgot! Should I close them?”

“How in the hell--? Yes, close them! This is what Tobi-nii meant when he said you needed to pay more attention to things!”

“I forgot!” Hashirama wailed as he shut the panels. “When we came home, Cara was so excited to play and the weather was so nice--”

Kawarama swung an arm out, gesturing wildly at the room. “It’s below freezing! And snowing. You literally have melted snow all over your floor! How is that nice weather?” He held a hand up as Hashirama made to answer. “Nope, you know what? Don’t answer. I don’t wanna know. Just show us what the cat looks like so we can look for her.”

The eldest man nodded, hurrying over with his phone, pictures already on the screen.

Half an hour later and they had had no success.

“Honestly, how do you lose a kitten?” Kawarama muttered as he searched through the guest bedroom for the third time. “I checked your bedrooms and the office three times already!”

“I’ve searched the backyard and asked your neighbors but there’s still nothing,” Izuna huffed, dropping down in front of the fireplace.He shoved his hands nearly into the flames, shivering violently. “I’m fucking freezing.”

Hashirama peered under the couch for the tenth time. “I don’t know! She started playing with my hair, which kinda hurt because her little claws kept scratching my skin so I left to get a toy instead and then she was gone!”

He sat back on his haunches, burying his face into his hands. “I just wanted Madara to have a nice birthday present before we celebrated Christmas. I try to do something special every year because I know how much it means to him and if I mess up this year, I know he’ll be disappointed--”

“Hey, come on, Anija, it’ll be okay--”

Suddenly the front door swung open. “Hey Hashbrown, the neighbors said there’s a weird guy--” Madara stepped in, pausing mid-stomp while cleaning the snow from his boots. He closed the door behind him, hanging his coat up. “Oh, hey Kawa, Izu. What’s up?”

Madara hugged his brother-in-law and then brother briefly, hissing at Izuna’s cold skin against his. He rubbed Izuna’s hands in his own, trying to force heat into them. “The hell, Izu, you’re freezing! Are you trying to get sick?”

Not waiting for an answer, he took his scarf and wrapped it around his brother’s neck, tucking it in carefully before heading to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some tea. Does anyone else want any?”

“Umm, yes, please!” Kawarama and Hashirama both sputtered out hastily, rushing to Izuna’s side as soon as Madara disappeared from view.

“What’re we gonna do?” Izuna hissed.

“Maybe we should leave and hope Cara shows up later?” Kawarama suggested. “She has to be in the house somewhere if she wasn’t outside.”

“That’s true, I didn’t see any paw prints--”

“Uhh, Hashbrown?” Madara re-entered the living room a few minutes later, cutting off their frantic whispering immediately. A tiny fluffy bundle of orange and black was cradled in his arms. Something of a smile pulled at his lips as he snuggled the kitten closer. “Why was this little one in the pantry?”

“The fucking-- Anija, you were supposed to--!”

“Surprise! Happy birthday!” Hashirama cheered, slapping a hand over Kawarama’s face. “I didn’t think you’d find her so fast! Not such a great hiding spot, huh, Kawa?”

The younger man spluttered incoherently for a moment, shoving Hashirama’s hand away and forcing a grin. Hashirama gulped, noting how that stretch of lips definitely looked like Kawa’s “plotting muder” face, and pleaded with his best puppy dog eyes that his brother would be forgiving.

“Guess it wasn’t,” Kawa said easily, his smile easing into something kinder. He glanced at the wall clock. “Oh, look at the time. I’ve gotta run. Reto’s parents are gonna be pissed if I’m late and I’ll never hear the end of it. Happy birthday, Madara.”

Izuna scrambled up, following Kawarama to the door. “Oh! Me too, Hikari and I have some things to finish up before dinner tonight.”

“Wait, your tea--” Madara slipped back into the kitchen, returning with two thermoses, the kitten now perching on his shoulder and almost blending in with his hair. “Tell her and the baby we said hi,” he said as he gently pressed the cups into their hands. “And Reto, as well.”

As the doors shut behind their younger brothers, Madara turned back to Hashirama, eyebrow raised and looking wholly unimpressed even as he carefully drew the kitten back into his arms. He nuzzled his cheek against the soft fur, grinning at the kitten’s purrs. “So, you want to tell me why there really was a kitten in our pantry?”

Hashirama smiled, chest tight with fondness as he leaned down to press a kiss to Madara’s cheek. “Cara just wanted to help me surprise you, Firecracker, that’s all.”

Madara snorted, returning Hashirama’s kiss, before turning back to the kitten stretching out in his arms. He stroked a thumb along a furry cheek and smiled. “I bet. But I’m never leaving her alone with you before you lose her again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo what do we think? Am I getting better at this humor thing or is it still cringe? 😂
> 
> Hope everyone’s doing well!! 😊💕

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think! 
> 
> Maybe a little OOC, who knows? They’re frantic and emotional and a lot has to be explained but *later*. They need this moment. HashiMada is slowly entering my life.....this shall be interesting lol
> 
> Anyways, stay safe everyone 💕


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